Razor Hawk and his crew ate up Kevin and Mallow’s scrap with shitty-ass grins, laughing like it was a damn sitcom.

  Razor Hawk tried his Ray-Block Glasses on Mallow again, but he hit two fat snags. First, he was tapped out on energy points—glasses were dead as shit. Second, he couldn’t fire ‘em up for another 24 hours. He pegged Mallow as a broke-ass from day one, and with a cheap prick like Kevin running him, it was a double whammy.

  Bottom line, Razor Hawk was a slick fuck—another day, another hustle for a pro thief. Seeing these two clowns down in the dirt, he figured they had jack squat left and let his guard drop.

  Razor Hawk, itching to stack team points off walker kills, was done screwing around here. He flicked his hand and barked, “Alright, listen up, fuckers! Don’t forget big bro Razor Hawk dragged your sorry asses outta hell, got it? You sniff out any loot, you damn well better cough it up. Now fuck off!”

  The second Razor Hawk and his crew spun around, they locked eyes with Marissa and her squad, guns trained right on ‘em. Razor Hawk’s boys yanked their own pieces, ready to throw down. The air was thick as shit with tension.

  Marissa glared at Razor Hawk, face hard as nails. “You pull this shit?” she snapped.

  Razor Hawk whistled like a cocky bastard. “Hell yeah, it’s your big bro Razor Hawk!”

  Marissa meant the whole mess—alarm, walkers, the works. But Razor Hawk, thinking she just meant the walker-smoking part, took the credit like he’d wiped ‘em all out solo. He’d blasted a pile of ‘em, so why the fuck not?

  “Who the hell let you call this shot?” Marissa’s voice cut like a blade. “Do you even grasp how bad this could’ve screwed the team?”

  Razor Hawk fired back, “Screw you, you high-and-mighty bitch! Why the fuck you poking in my shit? All you do is bat your eyes at Rikk. Since when do you run me?”

  Marissa flicked her eyes at Kevin and Mallow. She’d always pegged Razor Hawk as a loud, dumb brawler—no way he cooked up a plan this slick. The quiet one, the stay-at-home type, seemed more like the brains. Maybe they’d teamed up—homeboy scheming, Razor Hawk swinging.

  Razor Hawk, figuring Marissa was shielding Kevin and Mallow, sneered, “Marissa, get outta my damn face. I already cleaned these two out. So what? Stay in your lane, lady!”

  Kevin and Mallow looked like hell, faces banged up and puffy. They seemed cleaned out, down to nothing. Their rough shape was impossible to miss. Marissa blinked, thrown off. Turns out these two got jacked dry by Razor Hawk—they weren’t behind this mess and might even be worth teaming up with.

  So Marissa, playing the “team leader” card, laid into Razor Hawk for his dirty moves.

  Razor Hawk wasn’t taking that shit. He shoved Marissa and her crew aside and peeled out with his gang, pissed as hell.

  Marissa felt a pang for Kevin and Mallow when she heard how bad they’d been hit. She sighed, shaking her head, and tossed ‘em an offer to join her squad. Kevin brushed it off nice and easy, saying he needed time to mull it over. Marissa gave a nod, told ‘em to take as long as they wanted—her team’s door was always open.

  She waved ‘em off and started digging through the control room and generator room, hunting for anything worth a damn.

  As they rolled outta Zone D, Kevin got a ping from Omnispace:

  “Worldhopper 4444, you have completed the main storyline mission—Clear Zone D.

  You’ve taken out 355 walkers, 42% of the total in Zone D, earning 42 team points.

  Your temporary team handled over 70% of the load, boosting the reward by 70%. Newcomer trial and difficulty bonuses add 100%, making your total bonus 170%. You’ve scored 114 team points, bringing your total to 139.”

  “Mallow, you get the word?”

  “Boss, I got it too! I smoked 251 walkers—30% of ‘em. Omnispace split the burned ones down the middle since we teamed up on ‘em. The ones we dropped solo, they tallied separate, so our counts ain’t the same. Add the team bump and newbie juice, and I stacked 81 team points!” Mallow was buzzing like a kid with a new toy—he’d never bagged team points before.

  But the haul wasn’t done yet—another ping dropped from Omnispace:

  “Worldhopper 4444, since this is a main storyline mission, you are granted a special reward. Calculating…

  Reward: 5 skill points (2 base, 170% bonus), 5 attribute points (2 base), 2,700 survival points (1,000 base).”

  Mallow grinned wide, riding Kevin’s wave. “Boss, check this stack! We’re rolling in it! But why two payoffs?”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Kevin shrugged. “I’d put money the first’s the team cut, and this one’s straight from Omnispace.”

  “Boss, Marissa acts like she’s got it all figured, Razor Hawk’s a damn shark, and Sally, Jungwoo, plus Morimaru—they ain’t slackers. They’re all out there risking their necks. How come we’re the only ones cashing in big?”

  Kevin stopped cold, chewing it over. “Boils down to two things: sticking to the main gig and rolling the dice smart. We hugged the storyline and stared down some heavy shit. Yeah, we’re green with jack for power, so Omnispace tossed us a fat stack. But these shots? They don’t pop up every day. Omnispace dragging us in is like drafting raw meat. The newbie trial’s about guts and what we’ve got in us—not just chucking us to the dogs. You’ve got the stones to face the dark, you cash in big. Play it safe, dodge the heat, and we’re screwed either way. Only way to keep breathing is to spit in death’s face and snatch every shot to bulk up.”

  Right on cue, Omnispace blared again:

  “Attention, all Worldhoppers. The walkers are set to mutate a second time at midnight tonight. Strength, speed, and stamina jump another 10%, with smell, hearing, and sight sharpening up. Storyline difficulty climbs from C to C+. Reward bonus climbs too. Gear up, everybody.”

  Mallow glanced at his watch—6:00 p.m., six hours ‘til the mutation kicked in.

  Kevin and Mallow bailed from the prison, swapping a few words on the way out. The storyline crew was already parked, waiting.

  Razor Hawk and his gang rolled back in, looking sour as hell. Probably ticked about the mission haul. Marissa and her squad showed next, faces darker than a storm. Razor Hawk and Marissa traded icy stares, hate dripping off ‘em like oil. Both figured the other side scored the fat stack.

  Kevin couldn’t ditch the gut punch that this crew was fucked. The Governor—that evil bastard—was gearing up to hit soon, and these clowns were too busy scrapping each other to clock it.

  Rikk, blind as a bat to the mess, piped up, “Man, I’m hyped to see you guys crush it today! You showed some real chops and proved your grit. Big thanks for that!”

  The newbies swapped looks, eyes dripping with envy, jealousy, and a whole lotta salt as they clapped half-assed.

  Glenor, T-Bone, Aundra, and even Sharn piled on the praise, hyping the newbies for their grit.

  While the newbies tackled Zone D, the main crew had swept Zone B and the plaza out front. Now, the whole front half of the prison was theirs.

  Morimaru stepped up and slid Rikk a key plot piece: The Prison Key, nabbed from the warden’s office in Zone A.

  Morimaru said he’d rolled solo into Zone A—crawling with guard walkers, the nastiest spot—and yanked that key right outta the warden’s grip. No question, coughing up this game-changer was gonna cash in big.

  Sure enough, the main crew ate it up—even the hard-ass swordswoman tipped a quiet nod. Rikk kept smacking the kid’s shoulder.

  Kevin couldn’t hold back a grin, soaking in the sour vibes and petty glares Marissa and Razor Hawk shot as Morimaru stole the damn show.

  Turns out, some newbies were straight-up studs, like Morimaru. Zone A was likely packed with walkers—close to 1,000, same as Zone D. Took real chops, guts, and a sharp head to cut through to the warden’s office, drop that bastard, and snag the key. No way your average greenhorn pulls that off.

  But it wasn’t all high-fives and grins. Razor Hawk’s crew lost Clifford—a scrappy punk who’d bite before he’d bend. Sally’s squad was mourning Moerci, a tough-as-nails Latino who’d always pitch in fast. Newbie count kept tanking, but every cull left the leftovers harder.

  Kevin didn’t give a damn who was eating dirt anymore. Next gig, big score—that’s it. He could end up rotting in some hole someday—who gives a shit? Cashing in now and bulking up were all that counted. The rest was pure bullshit.

  “Alright, everybody, listen up,” Rikk barked, his voice slicing the air. “We’ve got this slick key, so half the prison’s ours to claim. Not the whole deal, but enough to keep us breathing. I want every last one of you hauling ass inside. Let’s kick this thing off!”

  The whole crew—over 100 deep—sprang into gear, way livelier than the small posse in the old tale.

  Rikk, Sharn, and the gang used the Prison Key to lock down the cleared zones, carving out their safe spot. Took two hours to settle in—big crowd, plus some dawdlers dragging their feet. They rounded everyone up again to dish out the night’s gig.

  Omnispace issued a notification: “You have successfully completed the task, earning the trust of key characters. They no longer consider you ineffective. Tonight’s mission: Defend the Prison—your final stronghold. All walkers will undergo a second mutation at midnight.”

  This time, Marissa, Razor Hawk, Sally, and Morimaru all scrapped over who’d call the shots for the night’s defense—turned into a full-on shouting match fast. The crew split hard: Rikk rolled with Marissa, Sharn had Razor Hawk’s back, Lorrah and Cahl stuck with Sally, while Sword Lady and the doc’s family rallied behind Morimaru.

  Kevin was eating up the chaos when Melk stomped over, face grim as hell. He sized Kevin up. “Dumbass, you’ve toughened up. Starting to look like you’ve got some grit now.”

  Kevin grinned. “What’s up?”

  “Well,” Melk growled low, “I’ve got news. We ain’t solo in this damn prison. Caught some noises from the other side of the walls—could be survivors, could be a mess. And Deyl spotted tracks outside on patrol—not theirs, ours.”

  Kevin arched a brow. “Human tracks?”

  “Damn straight,” Deyl said, strolling up with his crossbow slung. “Clear as daylight. Spread wide—not that clumsy walker stagger. Human, no question.”

  Kevin’s face tightened. Looked like some mystery crew had sniffed ‘em out—and might be scoping them now.

  “Two, maybe more,” Deyl went on, voice low and dead serious. “Rolled up in a big-ass SUV—tires dug deep ruts. Probably packing heat and supplies out the wazoo. Took the highway—walker hell central. Most sharp types steer clear, so they’re likely strapped to the gills.”

  Kevin cocked another brow. “Rikk clued in on this?”

  “Rikk’s in the know,” Deyl grunted, “but he’s holding off ‘til morning to poke around. Ain’t sweating it—figures our setup can take whatever. Me? Not so sold.” He shrugged, eyes skeptical.

  A cold chill ran through Kevin. Couldn’t pin it, but this stank of trouble. Maybe the Governor was crashing the party early.